Black Hole Sun
by painless
Summary: Regaining a sense of family in season 4. A little darker than Angel normally is perhaps...
1. Default Chapter

Angel stood by the door, chest heaving through habit after the slightly prolonged chase. Although he no longer required the cold grey recesses of his cold lung membrane, the adrenaline his body still produced was electrifying and vital. So often the senses of the undead could be blunted by a lack of heat or cold sensation and an abhorrence of natural light. Pity filled his soul for the girl his prey had left, lifeless in the alley. But envy filled his heart when he smelt the warm blood which had passed to her assailant.  
  
He saw a trail of blood like a glowing luminous mist as he made his way further into the warehouse. The human body of the rogue vampire had been terminated young, and the thing had swaggered about like an anaemic varsity football player. This made it all the harder to hide its bulk from his own centuries of experience.  
  
The scent trail led him to a small canteen off the main hall. He heard scrabbling noises and as he entered the room he caught sight of his quarry retrieving something from the top of an ancient vending machine. Not caring what the other was doing Angel leapt over the neighbouring tables and onto the athletic-looking corpse, feeling its rib cage crack as he hit the floor under Angel's boots.  
  
The boy-thing rebounded to his feet, and spat blood onto his dark attacker.  
  
"Filthy animal you are now", said Angel, traces of brogue creeping in to his voice. He pinned the creature neatly through the shoulder with a rapier and buried the tip in the wall next to the faded and peeling 'smoking kills' poster. Taking out a crimson kerchief he wiped the red flecked spittle from his face and admired his handiwork.  
  
The youngster whined and whimpered like a dog, clutching the bunched up muscles around his wound. Fear was written on his face and Angel could see that he was young to the immortal life not to have had a serious wound before now.  
  
"Coping with respiratory damage is a funny thing for the undead", said Angel, stepping a little closer. "You can crack ribs, and sure enough, they'll heal. A punctured lung now. Have you ever tried to speak with a punctured lung? You have to remember to hold your hand over the hold or it makes this revolting wet whistling sound." He leaned in closer a stiletto smoothly appear in his palm.  
  
"I had a massive hole in my lung once. Had to pack it with straw. Shall we see how much I can carve out of you before you loose the ability to talk? Only that would be a pity, you see- because I want you to talk." Angel leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the curls of bond hair by the vampire's ear.  
  
"Have you got anything to tell me?"  
  
"Nothing!" This was rewarded by a point sliding into the skin below the pectoral muscle.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Damn you! Ramases would level me if he knew I'd allowed you to catch me. There is nothing you could do to me that he wouldn't. Don't think I don't know that."  
  
"Did Ramases sire you? Where can I find him? How many of you are there?" Angel's little knife found the lung in and he put pressure on the sides of the wound, rocking his wrist to enlarge the hole. As he did this slowly and deliberately, the tortured lungs gave out a surprisingly high pitched squeal. A couple of air bubbles reached the surface around the knife.  
  
Angel pulled the knife out and tossed it to one side. Reaching into his pocket he drew out a pencil and deftly applied it to the hole, which was now bleeding freely. In doing so he momentarily lost track of his victim's movement.  
  
"Ramases is not one of us. He was sent to us from God to take us to the heavenly place." The young face was paler now, breath coming in short pathetic little wheezes as he tried to draw his chest back from the makeshift stake. But his eyes took on a shifty look which Angel was surprised by. A flicker of these eyes made Angel look down at a small glass phial now nestled in his right hand.  
  
"Ramases has come back to rule and I will sit at his right hand",was the last thing the vampire said as he cracked the phial. There was a sharp pungent smell of cloves and acids then he disappeared. Entirely.  
  
Angel was left leaning on a rapier holding a bloodstained pencil. Resisting the urge to lick it clean he threw it from himself in disgust. The slim rapier was tugged clean of the wall and put back in its coat- lining sheath.  
  
"Who the hell is Ramases?" he asked the empty air.  
  
Opening Credits 


	2. Tea and entreaty

Wesley, despite himself, was a little shocked by Cordelia's appearance. Steady, he thought to himself. Icy resolve and dead, stiff upper lip and all that. But just looking at her bitten fingernails and slept-on-the-floor hair gave him pause. He grieved for his friend but nevertheless turned his demeanour down to frosty.  
  
"So how can I help you Cordy? Not to say I'm not pleased to see you, of course. I must say, I was becoming concerned that you had resolved to let youself. go a little." He watched her smart at the barb, stung by her usual attachment to the superficial.  
  
"I'm spending time with Connor because he needs to find some peace with himself. He needs a mature figure in his life that he can depend on and trust. And frankly, that trust goes both ways. In case you hadn't noticed the last year hasn't exactly been the Cordelia calendar of stability either you know. We're really bonding into a family unit."  
  
"Touching", said Wesley. Mature figure my eye. "Cordelia, I'm pleased you're able to help Connor after he betrayed and hurt Angel. Oh, and speaking of Angel, isn't there a gaping hole in the family unit you're constructing there? I hope you're not asking Connor to fill it." He cast his eyes down at his tea. "Figuratively speaking of course". Cordelia flinched a little at that.  
  
"Wesley. Wesley please, it's Angel I need to talk to you about. I was hoping you could somehow speak to him for me. My visions are still pounding me daily with Hell and all its minions and I feel that I need to tell him about it. I don't think he knows how close it is and how fast its coming." She leaned across the table of the cheap diner they were sitting in. He could smell her slightly greasy hair and sticky breath.  
  
"Wesley, I don't think it's just the Beast that is coming. It's like the world is kind of fraying at the edges, as if there are more and more creatures sitting there, just out of view. I can't hold them all in my mind any more. I think that is why my memory was blocked after I came back from the Higher Place. Please, just talk to Angel for me. Tell him that everything has become a threat."  
  
"Cordelia, I believe you." Wesley broke the façade a little. "I've noticed it too- young people have been disappearing from the streets of Los Angeles for a few months now. Someone is building an army and we're spending too much time concentrating on one threat. I haven't spoken to Angel yet but by the time I do we'll have an army of our own." He leaned back on his chair and opened his stance a little. "I've been getting organised myself over the summer. The Wyndham-Pryce warriors are here to keep the streets safe from the lesser threats."  
  
Cordelia dimpled. A little more light shone from her grubby face. "The Wyndham Pryce Warriors? Wesley, you are Pryce - less!" 


End file.
